


Stolen Wings

by SleepingReader



Series: Winged Feet - Frida (Gato) Kahlo AU [2]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Ernesto is Crazy, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Frida Gato, Harm to Animals, Humor, Héctor is a badass, It's a more serious Frida Kahlo fic yall, Kidnapping, That alebrije is a badass, with fluff!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 12:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingReader/pseuds/SleepingReader
Summary: Ernesto De La Cruz is on the loose. The next day, Héctor's beloved alebrije, Frida Kahlo, is gone.This work is part of the Winged Feet AU, but is an actual story, while the rest of the chapters in 'Winged Feet' are oneshots.Rated Teen for swearing.





	1. The News

The eight o’clock news was broadcast on the little TV in the Rivera living room. Since nothing really bad happened in the Land of the Dead, most items were happy.  
‘…And the bunny-frog shaped alebrije ‘Amarillo’ has recently learned to water ski. Look at him go! Further today…’  
The broadcast was interrupted by the anchorwoman holding her hand up to her ear as she got more news. She looked shocked.  
‘ _Señoras y señores,_ for the first time in 100 years, we have bad news… I have just heard that plagiarizing murderer Ernesto de la Cruz has just escaped prison and is now on the loose… You remember, that _cabrón_ that brought famous musician Héctor Rivera so much trouble? I honestly can’t believe that that complete waste of human space has not been locked up more tightly.’

Héctor Rivera, who had been relaxing on the couch, was cheering the woman on.  
‘Yes! Tell them how it is!’ He shouted at her, throwing nachos at the TV and boo-ing when Ernesto’s face was shown. 

As you all know, ladies and gentlemen, Ernesto de la Cruz wanted to not only murder Héctor Rivera, but also make him be Forgotten forever.’ The anchorwoman continued. ‘In my humble opinion, this entire case is _una carga de cojones_ that this _hijo de puta_ is still at large.’ The anchorwoman was now getting riled up, taking off her shoe and waving it threateningly at the camera.  
‘  _¡Vaya gilipollas que es este tipo!_ ’ The anchorwoman shouted at the camera, declaring her hate for Ernesto. Two guards came in and started to drag her away.  
‘ _¡Ernesto, que te folle un pez! ¡Me cago en todo lo que se menea!’_ she managed to shout as she was carried out by a large man. 

Héctor lay on the couch, laughing his ribs off. Of course he was slightly nervous about Ernesto’s escape, but he also recognized the anchorwoman as one of Ernesto’s ‘conquests’. Apparently, the conquest had been short-lived. He had just regained his breath when a woman’s shoe flew at the camera, sending him into fits of laughter again. 

A new serious-looking anchorman in a nice suit took the previous woman’s place. He shuffled with some papers, and cleared his throat.  
‘Ahem… My… apologies for my colleague. She had a… long day. We advice you to keep your eyes open, and to call about sightings, or any ideas you might have about Ernesto de la Cruz’s whereabouts.’ He said in a grave voice. A number was shown on the bottom of the screen.  
‘In other news, the new TV show, ‘Who’s Got Temples’ has been nominated for a Golden Kneecap. In the next program, we hear about Diego Perez talk about his main character, Benito Ramos, so stay tuned. From all of us at Diario De La Muertas, goodnight to everyone except Ernesto de la Cruz. _Anda a cagar_ , Ernesto.’ The anchorman finished, grinning. Before the camera turned away, the anchorman could be seen getting an earful from his boss, sending Héctor into fits of laughter again. 

Imelda came downstairs to see what all the fuss was about. Héctor tried to explain, but couldn’t. The only words Imelda could here were ‘Ernesto escaped’ and something about an angry anchorwoman.  
Some time later, Oscar and Felipe staggered in, clutching each other and laughing. They had seen the same news in the bar. Felipe saw Héctor and quoted the lady: ‘In my humble opinion, this entire case is _una carga de cojones_ that this _hijo de puta_ is still at large!’ 

Héctor took of his shoe and shook it at them. ‘ _¡Vaya gilipollas que es este tipo!_ ’ He quoted, sending them all into laughter again. Oscar laughed so hard his head fell off. From the floor he said in a deep serious voice: ’…and goodnight to everyone except for Ernesto. _Anda a cagar_ , Ernesto’  
Héctor wiped away a tear. ‘Ay, I’m going to be using that every night now.’ he wheezed. Imelda frowned slightly at the boys. She loved it when they laughed together, but she was also slightly worried about De la Cruz. She said so to Héctor, but he waved it away light-heartedly.  
‘Pepita will kick his _culo_ if he shows up again.’ He assured her. 

The next morning, Frida Kahlo had disappeared.


	2. Clipped Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is Frida Kahlo?

Héctor searched for his beloved alebrije together with his family. Eventually, it was Julio who found the note. It had been tucked in the large shoe sign above the shop.  
The yellow envelope said _’¿Recuérdame?_ ’

Inside was a note. 

_What a cute little gatito_.  
_I’m sure she will look very nice on my wall._  
_Publicly clear my name before sunrise, and I will set her free._  
_You clipped my wings, Héctor. Now it’s time for hers._

The note was signed with a little cross. 

Héctor dropped to his knees. Tears tip-tap-tapped on the letter. His poor little Frida Kahlo. At that moment, it seemed De La Cruz took away everything he loved. His wife, his daughter, his music, his life… And now his best amiga. He passed on the letter to Imelda.  
_’Ernesto’_ Imelda snarled as she read it. Héctor had not seen that much hate since she turned him away when he had been singing under her window, three years ago. She lay her hand on his shoulder. Héctor wept, not caring who saw him.  
Rosita read it next. She let out a curse word that was so bad that Héctor’s brain cringed through his tears. Victoria hmm’ed and stomped her boot. Then she walked to the phone to tell the news what had happened. 

After reading the letter, Oscar needed to step outside the room for a bit to yell into a pillow. When he got back, Felipe had read the letter and did the same. They heard him kick the solid counter of the shoe shop. 

There was a reason for all of this. The Land of the Dead had rules. Hurting another dead person? Usually not considered a really bad thing. _La Chancla_ was still very much a part of the Land of the Dead. Plus, if you came back together again, it was sometimes pretty fun to fall apart. It was only the memory of pain that hurt.  
Harming someone’s alebrije? No one would ever even _dare_. Alebrijes were spirit guides, who guided lost souls toward the place they needed to be. They were (if not held in awe), at least respected and cherished. They were more than pets. They were part of a family.  
Ernesto had taken a part of the family. 

Julio and Coco read the letter together. Coco came over and hugged her father.  
‘Pepita will kick his _trasero_ , remember?’ She said sweetly. Héctor nodded tearily.  
‘My poor Frida Kahlo,’ he said. ‘She must be so scared.’

————

Meanwhile, in an abandoned warehouse at the bottom of the Land of the Dead, Ernesto De La Cruz put down the sack containing Héctors alebrije. The sack _beep_ -ed indignantly as it fell roughly to the floor.  
He had seen the alebrije in the newspapers, playing with Héctor, helping him _sing_. Ernesto was disgusted. He had long ago given up singing with other people, and to sing together with a _cat_? Héctor had sunken low. And then that _name_! An insult to the artist Frida Kahlo and her legacy. Ernesto shook himself. _Seize your moment._ he told himself. 

Frida Kahlo did not like being in this bag. Frida Kahlo liked being in Héctor’s ribcage. This man was not Héctor. He talked different and smelled weird. He smelled like Bad Person. And he had put Frida Kahlo in a bag. And then he had thrown the bag. Frida Kahlo was mildly annoyed.

The remainder of his fanclub crowded around the sack. It was not a big remainder. Only two guys from prison who hadn’t or couldn’t read the news. And Ernesto had been charming.  
One of them handed Ernesto a pair of wicked-looking scissors. _Time to clip some wings_ , he thought. He opened the sack. He peered inside. Frida Kahlo saw his face.

Across every universe there is the theory of Schrodingers cat. The theory goes that you put a cat in a sack. It might live. It might die. Until you look, the cat is both dead and alive.  
This theory is mostly right. But Schrodinger forgot to mention something.  
If you put a cat in a sack, chances are that the cat will be dead or alive. But most of all the cat will be really _fucking_ angry. 

The man next to Ernesto, Luis, had barely time to blink. Ernesto looked inside the bag, and was immediately thrown back to his butt, something shiny and fluffy on his face. Ernesto struggled to get it off, but the thing on his face was clawing at his eyes, putting paws into his mouth and _BEEP_ -ing furiously. Luis tried to help him, and was attacked immediately after. While he struggled with the fluffy sharp thing, his colleague Jorge tried to pry the alebrije off with a broom handle. Jorge hit Luis in the eyeball, knocking it out. The alebrije turned her head back to look at Jorge, who suddenly remembered that he was deadly afraid of cats. The little alebrije looked surprised to be there, but also still incredibly pissed off. Jorge backed off instinctively. This seemed to please the little cat, and she focused again on Ernesto, while Luis ran after his eye.

‘GET THAT CAT! CLIP HER WINGS!’ Ernesto shouted at the other two, but it was to no avail. Luis was searching for his eye, and Jorge was trying to hide from the alebrije. Ernesto roared with pain and anger.  
_You have to do everything yourself,_ he thought. 

He grabbed the neon calico by the scruff of her neck and slammed her against the wall. It hurt! Dizzy with the pain, Frida Kahlo tried to bite and claw at Ernesto, but he held her away from his face.  
His scissors gleamed in the fading light. They looked blunt and rusty. These were not scissors chosen to get the job done quickly. They were chosen to inflict pain.  
‘I think we’re clear now, aren’t we, _gato_?’ Ernesto asked.  
Frida Kahlo hissed at him, but she didn’t claw anymore.  
‘I’d cut your pretty wings off right now, but I think I’ll wait until Héctor sees you…If he even comes for such an ugly alebrije. Can’t even take care of yourself, eh, _gato_ how are you supposed to be a spirit guide, hmm?’ Ernesto said.  
At the mention of Héctors name, Frida Kahlo _beep_ -ed. There was no doubt in her tiny head that Héctor loved her. And she loved him. But the Bad Person was right. Frida Kahlo was no Pepita. She would never be Pepita. And maybe Héctor couldn’t find her…  
She hung her head, and her body went slack. It hung pathetically in Ernesto’s grasp. 

‘Now, for those wings…’ he said. He snapped his fingers. Luis, who had found his eye, came over to them.  
‘Clip this cat’s wings. Don’t maim her. Yet. Just make sure she doesn’t go away.’ Ernesto ordered.  
‘ _Si, señor De La Cruz_ ’ Luis said. He traded the mean-looking scissors for a smaller pair, and while Ernesto held Frida Kahlo by the scruff of her neck, Frida Kahlo could feel her wings being clipped. She could tell that the man was being careful, but she still hated the whole lot of them. She wouldn’t fight them anymore. Instead, when they put her down, she would run for the door and go back to Héctor!  
The clipping was done, but Ernesto had taken precautions. Frida Kahlo was bound up with a collar, and stuffed into a metal basket.  
As she licked her little wings, she hoped Héctor would be alright without his little alebrije. She hoped he wasn’t scared. 

 

In fact, Héctor was way past scared.  
Ernesto had taken something he loved. Again.  
Héctor wasn’t scared. Or even sad.  
He was in a cold, terrible, rage.

He cracked his neck and stretched.  
Time to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Frida Kahlo.  
> Héctor is coming, sweetie! Don't you worry.


	3. Lost and Found and Lost Again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Cruelty to Animals.  
> I'm so sorry.

\--------

They hadn’t even thought about restoring Ernesto’s name. His plan was badly thought out. He had ruined his own name while on camera. And so the Riveras decided to find him themselves.

Pepita landed with a _thud_. As the Rivera family climbed up, Imelda gave Pepita the yellow envelope to smell. Héctor stood next to Pepita, waiting to help Imelda up.  
‘Find him, Pepita!’ She ordered.  
But Pepita found nothing. Ernesto had used gloves.  
Héctor cursed.  
Then, Rosita saw something else on the gate. A new envelope. Inside there was a new letter, and something else.

_I hope you have better wings on your own feet, Héctor…_

The letter was once again signed with a little cross.

Rosita looked inside the envelope. She put her hand in.  
A handful of brightly colored feathers fluttered to the ground.  
Rosita didn’t recognize them at first, but Felipe gasped immediately.  
‘He clipped her wings…’ he said.  
Victoria clenched her fists. Julio looked down sadly. Coco teared up.  
He clipped her wings. Frida Kahlo wouldn’t be able to jump without her wings, uncoordinated as they were. No more soft wing tickles, no more sleeping in Héctors ribcage, with her wings curled around his ribs for support. No more bounciness.  
Héctor turned and kicked a rock. The rock didn’t care. Héctor yelled in pain and grief. He fell to his knees.  
Pepita nuzzled his back with her large snout. To Pepita, both Frida Kahlo and Héctor were kittens. Héctor had died too young, and Frida Kahlo was only about a year old. She would help them, no matter what. She knew there was nothing to do about poor Frida Kahlo’s wings.

But…  
Pepita put her nose to the clipped feathers. She sniffed at them. One of the feathers went into her nose. She sneezed, sending a tremor through her body and catapulting Oscar off her back. He quickly clambered back on.  
Pepita sniffed more carefully and growled. Apart from Frida Kahlo, she recognized another smell. She blew over the ground, and four sets of blue footprints appeared. To, and from the house, twice.  
Ernesto.  
‘De La Cruz. No one else has shoes like that’ Imelda murmured. ‘Ridiculous, having skull-decoration on the sole.’  
‘Look how his right side there leaves more imprint than his left’ Victoria said, pointing. ‘He must have been carrying something back then.’  
‘Frida Kahlo.’ Said Imelda.’Find them, Pepita. Come on, Héctor. Let’s kick his _trasero_.’ Héctor nodded.  
She and Héctor climbed onto Pepita, Héctor sat behind Imelda and held on to her waist.  
‘We’re coming, Frida Kahlo.’ He murmured, the hint of the cold rage still in his eyes.

Pepita sniffed the air, spread her wings and took off with a roar.

————

Frida Kahlo had been suspended in a large birdcage in the middle of the abandoned warehouse.  
It was cold in there. The floor was made of some sort of sheet metal, which did nothing to keep heat inside.  
The collar around her neck chafed, and her little wings felt sore. Her head still hurt from being slammed against the wall. One of her ears was scratched. She wish she could purr to make herself feel better. She tried it again. It didn’t work. She couldn’t purr without Héctor.  
She tried a _Beep_. Her collar shocked her. All of her fluffy hair stood on end. It smelled bad. Like burnt hair. But there was something else…  
Frida Kahlo sniffed the air. It smelled weird. Not only like Bad Person. It smelled like something sickly sweet. Like honey, mixed with candy floss. Then, a bitter almond after-smell. Her eyes widened. Poison?

Below her, Ernesto was talking to Luis while stirring the sweet-smelling poison in a pot. Frida Kahlo tried to claw at their heads, but she couldn’t reach. The cage was too high up.  
‘…should have gotten the letter now. Any time, any time now and I’ll be famous again. Héctor won’t lift a finger, that _alma lentil_ ’ Ernesto scoffed. ‘He would rather lose his fame than lose that dumb alebrije. Hah! Poor _tonto_ has no idea that he’s going to lose both. Soon I’ll be loved again. Pictures on my ofrenda…’ he muttered to Luis.

Luis nodded vaguely. He didn’t get paid enough for this shit. He was a convict, not a therapist. Plus, he was starting to doubt Ernesto’s credibility. If there were no pictures on his ofrenda in the Land of the Living… If the living had discredited him… Then maybe… the rumors were true. Maybe Héctor Rivera was the true musician. There was only one thought in Luis's head: _Get the fuck out of here. Back to prison if needs must. Change my name. Get a mustache or something._  
He slowly started inching toward the door. The cat-fearing Jorge had escaped earlier, after Frida Kahlo had been captured. Luis doubted that Ernesto had noticed anything.  
The door closed softly behind Luis.  
Ernesto continued talking.

The poison needed to stew. But in the meantime, Ernesto decided he could punish that little alebrije for existing some more. His own chihuahuas had been taken away from him. He was only allowed to visit his poor _niños_ once a month.  
If he didn’t get an alebrije, Héctor didn’t get one either.

Ernesto spotted an old-fashioned cattle prod in one of the corners of the warehouse. Perfect. He grinned, his face looking more skeletal in the moonlight streaming through the window.  
Frida Kahlo cowered back in the cage as he advanced.

 

————

Pepita flew low over the ground, occasionally running a bit. She breathed over the ground again and and again, always following the footprints. She didn’t allow the people on her back to get off. No more of her family would be lost that day.  
De La Cruz had been clever, taking multiple roads through the city. But Pepita was very good at this.  
It wasn’t long before they came to an old abandoned warehouse.  
There came a flickering blue light, and a buzzing sound, from one of the second floor windows.  
’That sounds like a…’ Oscar began.  
‘…Cattle prod’ Felipe finished. They only talked like this when they were under true stress.  
A harder buzzing could be heard, followed by a high pitched _YOOWWWLL_.  
Imelda looked back at Héctor. He was frozen in shock and anger. She touched his hand. He blinked and looked at her.  
‘Let’s go kick his ass, Héctor.’ She said.  
Héctor nodded. He slid off Pepita.  
He stood on his toes and let out a loud _gríto_.

————

Frida Kahlo had flattened herself weakly against the back of the cage. She was barely conscious. Singed fur lay all around her. She had a burn mark on her side, where the cattle prod had touched her. It hurt like nothing else. When she had yowled, the collar around her neck had given her a second shock, singing more hair around her neck. She saw the cattle prod advance for the second time. She closed her eyes and waited for the hit.

The _gríto_ could be heard from inside the building. It rattled the windows.  
Frida Kahlo weakly perked up her ears.

The cattle prod stopped advancing for the second time. It fell to the ground, where it turned off. Ernesto had heard the _gríto_ as well.  
While it meant hope was here for Frida Kahlo, it meant something else entirely to Ernesto.  
To him, it was a challenge.  
A demand to a contest.

The doors slammed open. Héctor strode in. He said nothing. His face looked like a thunderstorm. Ernesto had never seen him so angry. Héctor took no notice of him. There was only a cold focus on the large birdcage hanging from the ceiling.  
Ernesto stepped into Héctors path. He opened his arms. ‘Héctor! My old-‘ Here he was interrupted, for Héctor had taken Ernesto’s skull from his neck and had thrown it across the room. Ernesto’s body stumbled after it. The rest of the Rivera’s came in, looking like an angry mob. Pepita put a paw on the head.

Héctor continued purposefully to the birdcage, his face still looking like stone.  
With incredible strength he didn’t know he posessed he ripped the cage from its chain. Frida Kahlo was inside. There was a lock on the door of the cage, so he ripped it off its hinges. He reached inside for his weak and broken alebrije. Her fur was faded. The neon colors that were so bright before were dimmed. She tried to _beep_ at him, but the shock collar picked up on it. Héctor undid it with fumbling fingers. He inspected her little feet. Frida Kahlo’s wings had indeed been clipped, though not badly. However, she wouldn’t be holding on to his ribcage for a while.  
Héctor had an idea. He took off his jacket and bound it around his bottom ribs. He kept one part open so Frida Kahlo could go inside.  
He picked her up as carefully as he could, taking care not to disturb the bleeding shock wound on her side. She blinked up at him and licked his hand weakly.  
‘You have been so brave, _mi cielito_ ’ he muttered to her. He gently set her inside the makeshift hammock in his ribcage, and tied it closed.  
Frida Kahlo closed her eyes. Héctor was here.

‘As for _you_ ,’ Héctor said, turning to Ernesto’s head, that was still being held by Pepita. ‘If we were still alive I would have killed you for this.’ He told him. ‘But you got me first. You have taken everything from me,’ he said sadly. ‘You took my wife. My daughter. My family. And now Frida Kahlo.’ Héctor’s anger had faded. There was only one major concern for him: _Keep Frida Kahlo safe_.  
‘You’re going back to prison, Ernesto. And this time it will be for good.’ He said. Imelda went outside to get the night police. Pepita went with her, carrying Ernesto like a kitten.  
Sending him to prison was a wise decision, made by a honest man.  
The problem was, Ernesto was not an honest man.  
As he was carried outside, he was able to grab a lever.

The lights went on. A tremor went through the building. The doors started to close, keeping Imelda and Pepita outside. Héctor was trapped inside, along with Oscar, Felipe, Rosita, Victoria, Julio and Coco.  
They ran to the door, banging on the plexiglass windows. Imelda did the same, shouting from outside.  
The door was shut.

The floor started opening. Through the red light in the gap the Riveras could see cogwheels, a transportation belt and a heavy-duty grinder. One of those grinders that grinds objects into fine dust.  
It wasn’t a warehouse, after all.  
Ernesto De La Cruz had trapped them inside a garbage compressor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... sorry about that...  
> I hadn't really expected that, either. Came as a shock to me, too.  
> I bring things to an end in the next chapter.


	4. RRRRRRRR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conveyor belt turns... And the Rivera run.

\--------

They did the thing everyone would have done.   
They screamed.   
And then they fell.   
The Rivera’s landed on the transportation belt. They got up and started running the other direction. Felipe tripped on Rosita’s dress, sending them both to the ground. They knocked over the rest of the Rivera’s, Héctor holding his ribcage to protect his poor little alebrije.   
They ended up together in a tangled heap of bones. After a few moments, they all were upright and running again, but it was too late. The garbage grinder at the end of the transportation belt started churning.   
Victoria stumbled, trying to stay away from it. She teetered over the edge… A gasp from her family… And then a relieved sigh. She had saved herself. Balancing on her arms and legs, she had blocked the grinder. For now.  
But the transportation belt went on, pushing the rest of them to their doom.   
‘We need to find a switch! Or a lever!’ Rosita yelled.   
‘Can Frida-‘ Began Oscar, but Héctor interrupted him.  
‘I am not asking that of her, she is too weak!’ He yelled over the noise of the grinder.

But Frida Kahlo wanted to help! She tried standing up. She fell down again. The wounds on her side and her neck hurt too much. She felt hopeless.   
And then…  
It started with the slightest of rumbles. A slight _rrrr, rrrr, rrrr_ coming from Héctor’s ribcage. Even in this dark place, Frida Kahlo was purring. Héctor, running, reached inside his ribcage and stroked her head with a finger.

She purred louder. Her fur started to light up, starting with her eyes. They were each a different color. Héctor had never noticed. The light reached the tips of her feet. 

Frida Kahlo thought about Héctor as she purred. About how he found her. How he had taken her in. He had never hurt her. He had let her sleep in his ribcage. Had let her help him.   
She purred loudly with love. For his love. For his family’s love. Her fur started to shine brighter. She thought about happy things.   
Imelda, who petted her and called her _bonita_.  
Oscar who gave her treats.   
Felipe who knew just how to tickle her ears.   
Victoria who always explained what she was doing.   
Rosita who let her sit on her workbench.   
Julio who always called her ‘Frida Gato’ and who didn’t mind if she played a little too roughly.   
Coco, who sang to her.   
And Héctor, who did all of that and more. 

Frida Kahlo purred louder with love for the ones in the slums. With love for Miguel, who had kept Héctor going. With love for her wings. For her fur. With love for papayas.   
She purred even louder with love for her family, alive and dead.   
Héctor felt his bones rattle with the purr. Wait. Those weren’t his bones.   
Héctor felt the transportation belt rattle.   
‘What is happening?’ Cried Julio   
‘Frida Kahlo is purring!’ Héctor answered  
‘That’s _great_ ,’ said Victoria, ‘Make her stop! I can’t keep this up!’ She yelled, her arms straining.  
‘Frida Kahlo, please stop!’ Héctor pleaded.  
But Frida Kahlo only closed her eyes, dug in her nails and purred louder.   
The purr seemed to be all around. While the building fell apart, Frida Kahlo’s purr kept the Rivera’s together.  
The transportation belt rattled more. Dust fell from the ceiling. Then, a brick landed on the side of the belt. A cog flew out of the belt. Frida Kahlo purred louder. Another brick fell. And another. One missed Victoria and landed in the grinder. It faltered and got stuck. Apparently, rock was not made for this.   
Then, a big cogwheel jumped out of the belt. The transportation belt shuddered to a halt. The Rivera family stood still. Frida Kahlo stopped purring. Victoria clambered out of the grinder.  
Then… More bricks fell.   
‘RUN!’ Yelled Coco, for Frida Kahlo’s purring had brought down the third floor of the building.   
They ran like death was following them once again.   
A window shattered. Pepita soared inside, grabbing Julio, Victoria, Oscar and Rosita in each claw. She flew out again, and came back for Felipe, Coco, and Héctor. From his place, he noticed that Pepita still held Ernesto in her mouth like a kitten. He struggled inside. Pepita’s mouth was clasped around Ernesto’s head, and for all he knew, he was being taken to prison again. His arms flailed. He poked her in the eye. Pepita flinched. Ernesto put a hand up her nostril. Pepita took a series of deep breaths…  
And sneezed.   
Ernesto flew across the room, and landed in a heap on the floor near the wall. Pepita decided to fly her family outside first. 

Safely outside, Héctor was reunited with Imelda. She kissed him multiple times, and then reached inside his ribcage for Frida Kahlo.   
‘Ay, _bonita_ , you saved the day. _Gracias_ Frida Kahlo.’  
‘ _Sí, gracias_ said Victoria.   
The rest of the family soon followed, all thanking Frida Kahlo (and Pepita) for the things they had done. Pepita purred lightly, almost like a breeze. She couldn’t purr like Frida Kahlo, because she was not Frida Kahlo. And that was good. 

There was a rumbling inside the building. Frida Kahlo hissed.   
‘You can’t… lock me up…’ the dusty figure yelled from the floor at the high window. ‘I am Ernesto De La Cruz! The greatest… _música_ … of all time!’ He yelled between breaths. ‘You think you can… escape me, Héctor? I willl… Find you… again, and again and…again!’ He yelled.

A soft _beep_ was heard. Héctor looked at his ribcage. Frida Kahlo was tugging at the knots. It was obvious what she wanted. She wanted out.   
He undid one of the knots and gently set Frida Kahlo down to the ground. She was unstable on her feet without the help of her wings, but she managed to totter to the building. She looked down at Ernesto De La Cruz  
‘ _Beep._ ’ she said weakly, but with a lot of conviction. She set her head against the building, just like she had done with a guitar once. 

She summoned all her love for her family, and all the hate for Ernesto, and purred.   
The ground shook. Ernesto’s head fell off. The Rivera’s all took a step back.   
Frida Kahlo shut her eyes, dug her nails into the ground, pressed her head harder against the building and purred.   
_rrrr RRR RRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRR_  
The building gave up, and collapsed into itself.   
Right on top of Ernesto. 

Frida Kahlo _beep_ -ed softly, and fainted. Héctor caught her before her bad side hit the ground. He held her in his arms and hugged her, the whole ride home.   
That night, she slept next to him and Imelda once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL IS WELL! Stay tuned for the epilogue!


	5. The News, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks later...

\---------

‘ _BEEP!_ ’  
‘AAAH, no, Frida Kahlo, it’s not fair!’ Oscar yelled as he was chased around Shantytown. ‘Just because your wings have grown back, doesn’t mean you get to tickle anyone you- AAAUUGGHGH!!’ His sentence was interrupted by Frida Kahlo, who tickled him mercilessly.  
The Rivera’s had been having a picnic in Shantytown, to celebrate Frida Kahlo’s full recovery. 

That evening, Héctor settled down to watch the news with Oscar and Felipe. The anchorwoman that had been so angry the previous time was back on the show. They cheered for her.  
‘…And we are happy to say that the alebrije Frida Kahlo has made a full recovery after her terrible ordeal with that _cabron_ Ernesto De La Cruz. Eyewitnesses stated that the little alebrije has brought down the entire building. We spoke to the ‘Real Frida Kahlo’ who stated…’  
Here, a clip of the human Frida Kahlo came in.  
‘That little _gatito_ has been _muy, muy valiente_. I am proud to share her name.’ Human Frida puffed out her chest. The monkey on her shoulder did the same.  
‘As for bringing down a building… we all know that alebrije have magnificent and mystical powers…’ The monkey on Frida’s shoulder blew fire. There the clip ended.  
Héctor laughed. 

‘The alebrije Frida Kahlo, known sometimes as Frida Gato to her friends, has regrown her wings completely, and the wound on her side has healed nicely after the help of no less than three veterinarians, who all volunteered!’ The anchorwoman spoke. ‘Honestly, if you ask me, that Frida Gato is no less than a hero! _¡Dale una medalla y un desfile!_ She brought down that _gilipolas_ Ernesto De La Cruz!’ the woman shouted, getting excited again and trying to climb the table. She was quickly silenced by a colleague, who hugged her tightly and patted her head.

The three men laughed their spines off. That anchorwoman never disappointed. Héctor recognised the one that held her as the man who had taken over the last time and had delivered the punchline he and his _hermanos_ (Oscar and Felipe) still quoted every night. 

‘Guess they’re an item, now, huh, Frida Kahlo?’ He asked of his alebrije. She purred once, sleepily. She was back in his ribcage where she belonged. 

The anchorman who held his anchorwoman turned to the camera. He talked over her head.  
‘We have received knowledge that the police has searched the abandoned garbage disposal, and we have heard that they found only a shoe with a very intricate (and stupid) sole. If that belongs to De La Cruz, well, we can only hope he is gone.’ He said. ‘From all of us at Diario De La Muertas, goodnight to everyone, especially to Frida Kahlo. _Bendiciones a Frida Kahlo_.'

Felipe stopped laughing enough to wipe a tear from his eye.  
‘Guess we have a new goodnight wish, huh?’ He asked, grinning. 

In that moment, Frida Kahlo started purring again.  
Héctor nodded. Everything was better with Frida Kahlo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE! You guys wanted angst and I hope I gave you enough to satisfy yourself for a while!  
> Where is Ernesto? I have no idea. He will be Gone until someone needs him for a fic again, I guess.  
> I probably made him too OOC, and too evil, but hey, this is my fic. I can do what i want. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I'll see you back at Winged Feet! 
> 
> Lots of love and Frida Kahlo kisses  
> \- Ella (SleepingReader)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and for loving Frida Kahlo as much as I do. A lot of you asked me if I could put Ernesto in. That asshole gets a story all to himself so he doesn't ruin the fluffyness of Winged Feet.
> 
> Thanks to:  
> Luckyduckylulu  
> Jaimee King  
> revvit31  
> and all the others for suggesting this. You keep me writing <3.
> 
>    
> Again thanks to Jaimee, cause I kind of used their comment they posted on Chapter 2 to make everyone sad in Chapter 3. Thumbs up to you, Jaimee!


End file.
